Forced Hand
by StarRise
Summary: Sometimes, despite the best of intentions, circumstances force your hand and make you lay all your cards on the table.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Forced Hand (1/2)  
>Verse: G1 AU<br>Rating: PG-13 (ish?)  
>Warnings: Angst, fluff<br>Characters/pairing: Prowl/Jazz, random unnamed mechs and femmes

_This is part of _To Love a Stranger. _Timeline is somewhere just before _Someone Once Cared.___ Please shred or enjoy as you will._

Jazz slipped through the compound, keeping to the shadows. If one more individual stopped him to ask his opinion on this or that he was going to snap. Granted, this was the first official reception since his public bonding with Prowl. Yes, it was a big deal, and yes, the entire event was supposed to revolve around him and his mate, but he was starting to loose his patience.

He didn't care about the decorations. He didn't care about what was going to be served for refreshment. He'd already had his say about the music, about the dances, about the ceremony, and he just wanted this to be done.

If he'd had his way about it there wouldn't be any party at all. Resources were slim enough as it was that they didn't need to be squandered on a political statement. To the same tune, there were expectations to be met and traditions to be upheld. This reception had a duel purpose.

It was time for his sparker to publicly acknowledge him as the heir to the title of Lord of Polyhex and Prowl as his bonded Consort. It was all political maneuvering, making the announcement in front of the gathered nobles and representatives, but it was something that had to be done.

It was more of a formality than anything else, since Jazz had no siblings that could be alternatives for the position. Jazz frowned as another thought occurred to him. In light of the fact that he had no siblings his second cousin on his carriers side would actually be the next in line for the title. With this announcement Jazz was sure there would now be a push for an heir.

He and Prowl hadn't even spark merged yet, and he was going to have to find a way to shield Prowl from that pressure. If Prowl perceived that pressure as duty Jazz knew the Praxian would start pushing their relationship faster then either of them were ready for. The teasing hints and veiled remarks at the small recent clan gathering had almost been too much for the Praxian to process. Jazz had noticed him shutting down and pulled him from the gathering until he had seemed like he was coming out of it.

Jazz slipped into their quarters, sighing with relief. No one should disturb him here. This was a place where he and Prowl could go and be disturbed for anything short of an emergency. Leaning back against the door he allowed his optics to go offline until a soft laugh reached his audios.

"I do not see how that can be comfortable."

"Ya'd be amazed what a lack of doorwings allows ya to do." Jazz shot back, visor still dim as he strained his audios. Even at his most careful he barely heard Prowl cross the room, wasn't entirely sure were the mech was until gentle hands touched his face. A gentle, chaste kiss was followed by a tug on his arm.

"Several of the servants were by today."

"Oh?" Jazz allowed himself to be led across the room, still not bothering to look where he was going. He trusted Prowl.

The mech turned him gently and pushed him back. Jazz grabbed hold as his knees went out from under him, surprised, until he landed in a chair, and laughed, pulling Prowl with him. "They brought my chair over."

"I thought you had said you would rather have it here…"

"I did and I do." Jazz kissed him, not quite the same chaste kiss he had been given earlier. "And while I think eventually I want it by the window, right here will do fer the moment, seein' as how I've no intention of lettin' ya up any time soon."

Prowl laughed with him, a sound that quickly melted into a moan as Jazz smoothed a hand over a wing. It hadn't taken the smaller mech very long to discover how sensitive those were and turn the sensitivity to his advantage. Not that Prowl had protested very much. In the span of a few minutes he was quivering mess in Jazz's lap.

The weakness would have frightened Prowl if he did not trust Jazz so much. It had taken a while for his processor to assimilate the fact that touches from Jazz did not hurt, and never would. Jazz would never strike him or attack him maliciously. Jazz would never mean to bring him harm, physically or mentally.

Jazz had forgiven him without hesitation when Prowl had struck him in unconscious self defense and had promptly set about desensitizing his mate to his touches. He had been effective to the point that Prowl came seeking cuddle time when worried or stressed. A desire that Jazz was more than pleased to indulge.

The smaller mech looked at the dim optics, stealing a kiss as he shoved other issues that needed to be addressed to the back of his processor for later. Much later.

Prowl offlined his optics in an attempt to center himself. He replayed the scene from earlier, trying to find that mindset again. He hadn't had a problem during the formal presentation, standing in front of the assembled mechs and femmes as Preceptor had publicly named Jazz the heir to the title of Lord of Polyhex.

Traditionally Prowl was supposed to wait behind Jazz until he was also acknowledged. But Prowl had discovered, once everyone was not worried about constantly being on their best behavior, that Jazz had a cheeky nature, and a stubborn streak as wide as Prowls. Jazz was not above thumbing his nose at tradition and the system when it did not suit him and when such snubbing would not cause any serious ramifications.

So when he had insisted that Prowl was going to be at his side through the whole ordeal his creators had gone with it. And when the time had come for Prowl to be acknowledged he had taken the Praxians hand in his own and held it possessively. The lord of Polyhex had managed to keep a straight face throughout the ceremony but anyone close enough had noticed the extra glint in the mechs optics as he had acknowledged Prowl as Jazz's mate and the consort of the next lord of Polyhex.

Then the reception had then turned into a social event, and that is when Prowl's problems had begun. Separated from Jazz, trapped in the middle of a large number of bots he had never seen before his life, Prowl started to shut down. Every little noise was too loud, from the music playing to the low tones of the conversation just a few feet away.

The light was too bright, no matter how much he dimmed his optic sensors. All around him it felt like the room was closing in on him, pressing on him from the outside even as he was sure he was going to explode from the inside, and he it was all he could do to keep his feet planted firmly on the floor as yet another stranger approached him, highgrade in hand.

The femme stopped before him, entourage looking him over from head to foot as she did. The silence as she took a drink from her cube of highgrade was almost worse than the noise as Prowl felt trapped by the scrutiny.

"Well, you still take after you carrier well enough. The family resemblance is certainly there."

"Lady?" Prowl's voice was strained, even to his own audios. He struggled to remember his manners as he wished to Primus that he was somewhere else.

She sniffed a little. "Of course you wouldn't remember me, not after that scene at the presentation reception all those vorns ago. Song was never above making a spectacle of herself, given the chance, and you apparently take after her." She looked at those gathered around her. "Nice to have one's suspicions confirmed after all this time."

The words brought back the memory of another time and place and Prowl felt his processor locking up. His whole frame started to quiver uncontrollably and his optics shorted out. For a moment he thought he heard Jazz, thought he felt strong hands grab on to him, before the world went dark and blessedly quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Forced Hand (2/2)  
>Verse: G1 AU<br>Rating: PG-13  
>Warnings: Angst, fluff, intimacy, and a very possessive Jazz<br>Characters/pairing: Prowl/Jazz

_This is part of _To Love a Stranger. _Timeline is somewhere just before _Someone Once Cared.___ Not sure I am entirely satisfied with this so there may be a re-write somewhere down the road. Please shred or enjoy as you will. _

Jazz guided Prowl back to their quarters, most of his attention focused on his mate and the shame and fear he was reading from the mech. Shame he could understand after what had happened, it was the fear that was confusing him.

No one was angry with Prowl. No one blamed him for what had happened. Jazz was very concerned when Ratchet informed them that what had happened to Prowl was caused by a glitch in his base coding. The medic had run some tests once Prowl was stable, leaving strict orders that the Praxian was not to be exposed to any social situation until some research could be conducted.

Now Jazz understood what had happened to Prowl during the clan gathering. Jazz had simply recognized that something was wrong before Prowl crashed, and as he pointed out to Ratchet, a full crash could be prevented so long as someone was paying attention.

In the safety if their quarters Jazz paused just long enough to make sure the door was locked. Not that anyone with a functioning processor would disturb them right now, insuring the extra peace of mind also gave him a minute to focus himself. When he turned around Prowl was standing in the center of the room, lost.

"Prowl?"

The mech began to tremble where he stood. "I understand. I-, you can petition for another bondmate. No one will blame you, and Streetwise can't protest the petition. I-."

Prowl stopped there. He had no idea what he would do. Streetwise had no use for him, the mech had made that quiet clear many times, supposed creation of his sister or not. It was unlikely that any Enforcer or military unit would be willing to take him take a glitched mech into their ranks.

He was truly worthless now. He had brought shame to mech he loved, committed a sin that could never be forgiven. Image was everything in this world, a fact that had been driven into him at a young age. Jazz deserved better than the trash he had been given, the reject-.

A low growl was all the warning he was given before possessive lips captured his own.

"What would make you think I want another bondmate?" Jazz demanded.

"Shameful."

"Bold." Jazz declared, running a thumb along Prowl's chevron.

"Beautiful." Jazz continued, palms sliding over quivering doorwings as he slid behind Prowl.

"Strong." The hands glided across Prowls shoulders as Jazz moved to the front again, catching Prowl's face and looking into his optics. "Brilliant."

He leaned in for another kiss. "Mine."

Prowl whimpered, leaning into that kiss and wanting to believe. "Jazz-."

The smaller mech pulled back just far enough to study Prowl, then grabbed his hand firmly and drug the Praxian in the direction of the berthroom. Leaving Prowl at the edge of the berth Jazz leapt on to the platform, turning to kneel in the middle and face his lover.

"Prowl."

When Prowl looked at him Jazz held out his hand. "Proof." He whispered as his chest plates parted, baring his spark and offering a quick prayer to Primus that this was the right thing to do.

Prowl stared, trying to wrap his processor around what he was seeing.

"Prowl, I believe in ya. Now trust in me." Jazz held out his other hand, pleading. "Please."

Prowl tore his optics from the brilliant spark lighting up the berthroom. Slowly he reached out, joining the other mech on the berth as their hands met.

"I trust you." He whispered as their fingers wove together, Prowl's optics going dark as he focused. "I trust you." He repeated as his own armor parted another spark lit the room.

It was only a first merge, a base for the bond that could exist between them.

But it was enough.

Their sparks had tasted and shared, and now they wanted no other. Prowl knew in his spark he had found a mech that loved him despite, or perhapes because, of what he was. A mech who believed in him, and only asked in return that Prowl trust him.

Prowl could feel him now, that part of his spark that was now Jazz. And for someone who had spent so much of their existence starved for attention and love it was frightening. Frightening to be loved and wanted and cherished so possessively, so unconditionally.

It shook Prowl to his spark and gave birth to new fear. Jazz was giving so much that Prowl was not entirely sure he would ever be able to give enough in return. How would he ever prove to the mech beside him how much Prowl did value the gift he was being given?

Jazz grumbled, optics coming online as he wiggled in the arms of his mate. "Prowl."

The mech shrank away from him, guilt flowing across the link between them. "Jazz, I'm sorry."

"Shhhh, love." Jazz nuzzled at Prowl's neck as he tasted the new warmth in his spark. He accepted the fear flowing across it, allowing love to wash back in it's place. "Nothin' ta be sorry for. Yur upset though. Regrets?"

Prowl shook his head. He had no regrets, only fear that he would somehow fail Jazz in some way, unable to shake that fear of being alone again just yet.

~Never.~

Prowl twitched, optics flashing in surprise as he heard Jazz in his spark.

"Mine, always." Jazz spoke, voice firm. "An' sorry. That'll fade by mornin, love."

"That is sad." Prowl whispered, leaning into Jazz. He rather liked the new level of communication between them.

Jazz grinned. "Well, on tha note, I certainly wouldn' object ta firing it up again. And again." He paused to kiss Prowl. "And again."


End file.
